


Straining at the Seams

by arysteia



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M, Semi-Clothed Sex, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 00:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18457811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysteia/pseuds/arysteia
Summary: Sometimes things fit better than expected.





	Straining at the Seams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



“Is that my shirt?” Vane demanded, frozen in the open doorway. Sunlight spilled in from outside, illuminating the still dark, shuttered room.

James glanced down at himself, at the faded once-black linen hanging untucked over his half buttoned breeches. “No,” he said automatically, but now that he looked at it more closely, it _was_ a little tight around his upper arms.

“It fucking is,” Vane said, pushing the door shut and barring it.

James shrugged. “Well, does it matter?” he asked. “It’s just a shirt.” It wasn’t a new one, either, one cuff fraying, and a seam starting to give at the shoulder, the fabric soft from many washings.

“I like it,” Vane said, stalking towards him.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” James sighed, grabbing the offending item at the waist and preparing to take it off again. “We don’t have time for this, we need to-”

“I like it _on you_ ,” Vane said, voice suddenly deep with arousal, eyes fixed on the open neck of the shirt, and the pale triangle of James’ chest it revealed. In truth, he should have known it for one of Vane’s, the placket cut much deeper than any of his own shirts, the laces long since lost, but they’d been living practically on top of each other these last few days, holed up in this wretched tavern, waiting for the navy ship in port to depart and the _Walrus_ to return to pick them up.

Vane reached out a hand towards him, and snagged two fingers in the collar of the shirt, lightly stroking James’ rapidly heating skin. He could feel the blush spreading from his chest to his neck, and up to his ears and cheeks, his cursed redhead’s skin flushing scarlet. Vane followed its path with his fingers, thumb pressing into the hollow of James’ throat. James shivered, though the room was hot, and airless with the windows tightly closed.

It wasn’t the first time that Vane had touched him, but they’d never been sober before, or this deliberate. Vane’s hand squeezed his neck once, not hard, perhaps even affectionately, then dropped to his own trousers.

“Get ’em off then,” he said.

James stared at him, but if it was a joke it was an over complicated one, Vane unbuckling his wide leather belt and dropping it to the floor at their feet, then moving to unbutton his trousers. James hesitated another moment, just long enough for Vane to start to look uncertain too, then pushed his already open breeches down his thighs. Vane grinned at him then, and shucked his trousers, then pulled his shirt off over his head. James reached for the hem of his own shirt - _Vane’s_ shirt - but Vane stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Leave it,” he said gruffly. James shuddered, but obeyed.

Vane’s hand shifted up his arm to settle on James’ shoulder. James breathed in deeply, then leaned in towards him. Vane closed the distance, and kissed him, oddly gentle. It felt strange, the first kiss he’d had in years, the first he’d ever had from a man with a beard. He pulled back, slightly disconcerted, but Vane didn’t say anything, just turned him slightly, and pushed him back towards the wreck of the bed behind them.

They fell into it with a creak of ancient slats, and shifted to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress and nest of tangled bedclothes. That felt strange too, where usually they’d have been stumbling drunk or exhausted, or shoving half angrily at each other, arguing all the while. Vane kissed him again, more roughly this time, and that felt easier to take somehow, so James bit his lip, hard, and Vane threw back his head and laughed, swiping at the trickle of blood with the back of his hand, and then smearing it very deliberately across the front of the shirt that had started all this foolishness.

Vane shifted his weight and moved slowly down the length of James' body, hands dragging down the crumpled linen, smoothing it as he went. The shirt was tight at the hip and thigh, and tented obscenely over James’ rapidly filling cock. Vane mouthed at him through the thin material, then moved it just enough to get his mouth on him. James gasped and clawed at the sheets, then thought, _fuck it, the world is already upside down_ , and shifted them cautiously to cup Vane’s head. Vane looked up at him, cock still in his mouth, and winked. That made James thrust up in shocked surprise, and then Vane started sucking him for real.

James could barely move to thrust with Vane’s full weight on top of him, but he didn’t have to, Vane swirling his tongue around the head of his cock, then pulling off to lick along the shaft, beyond to nuzzle at his balls, then returning, and after a deep breath, pushing down without ceremony to take the entire length. James felt himself butt up against the back of his mouth, then Vane swallowed and he slid into his throat, the heat and wet and tightness almost overwhelming. Vane sucked him, hard, fingers and thumbs digging into the meat of his thighs as he bobbed his head up and down, and all too soon James was coming, an almost violent release that made his head spin.

Vane let him lie there, breathing heavily, for a moment, then hooked a hand under the small of his back and flipped him over onto his stomach. He moaned exhaustedly, and spread his legs. The shirt was bunching around his waist now, and Vane rucked it up further, leaned in to lick across his sweaty back, and further, into the cleft of his arse. James shifted, gasping, and he could feel Vane’s cock, hot and heavy, dragging against his leg, leaving sticky smears on his skin, and then his fingers probing the entrance to his body. They thrust inside, not roughly, but not asking for permission either, and James was glad about that, preferred even still, on this strange day, to pretend Vane had taken advantage of his drunkenness, or overcome him with strength, or won some kind of infernal wager.

The head of Vane’s cock slipped in easily, and he waited barely a moment for James to brace himself, then pushed in the rest of the way. He was hot, and hard as rock, his considerable length a burning brand inside James, and James shifted into it despite himself, hips moving, his own sensitive cock trapped between his belly and the rough sheets, and then Vane’s hand was snaking round his side to pull the shirt tail down again, the pooled linen a soft pillow for him to rub himself against.

Vane started thrusting then, deep, coring thrusts, and James moaned under him, pushing back to meet him despite himself, and Vane chuckled behind him, and pulled him abruptly to his knees, thighs splaying wide over his own, back plastered tight against his own front. James grunted as the penetration deepened, and without conscious thought flung a hand back to pull Vane's head hard against his neck, angled his own head so their mouths could meet. Vane kissed him wetly, and James opened his own mouth wide, bit at his already cracked lips again, sucked at his tongue, panted hot and wet against his cheek. Vane couldn’t fuck him as hard in this position, instead used his hand to stroke his hardening cock, and shifted his hips in small circles, and James let go of whatever last qualm he’d been holding onto and rocked against him, screwing himself down hard on Vane’s throbbing cock.

Vane came inside him with a sudden, surprised gasp, but didn’t pull out, just kept stripping his cock, fast now, thumb swiping over the tip, and and with a pained moan James came again, spurting into his hand, and collapsing against him, sprawled ungainly in his lap. Vane kissed his neck one more time, then ostentatiously and deliberately wiped the mess off onto the breast of the shirt, rank now with sweat and other things, and then he shoved James down into the bed and curled up around him.

“We do need to get moving,” he said a while later, as James drifted on a tide of pleased exhaustion. “Get up, lazybones, unless you want your crew to see you like this.”

James sat up abruptly, abused muscles twingeing, and looked around. Vane was fully dressed, and as clean and well put together as he ever was. He picked up James’ crumpled breeches from the floor and threw them at him, then hoisted their shared knapsack over his shoulder and opened the door.

“Did you leave me a shirt?” James called after him as he stepped out into the corridor.

“No,” Vane called back without turning. “Wear that one.”


End file.
